Portrait of the Blues

Tonight the cloud of loneliness is on my windowsill
And I can’t seem to find the words that tells just how I feel
So I think I’ll paint a picture and the girl that I once knew
And I think I’ll call my picture a portrait of the blues

Falling rain will be my teardrops blue skies the way I feel
When she sees it in the picture she’ll know my love is real
And among the solemn critics will be a masters’ piece of art
When she sees that it was painted with the pieces of my heart

The dress that she was wearing when we said we were through
Well it will be there in my picture in the portrait of the blues
And the ring upon her finger I would surely place it there
And the yellow ribbon she wore to match her golden hair

Falling rain will be my teardrops blue skies the way I feel
When she sees it in the picture she’ll know my love is real
And among the solemn critics will be a masters’ piece of art
When she sees that it was painted with the pieces of my heart
When she sees that is was painted with the pieces of my heart

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